


Merlin Has a Dragon (And Other Revelations)

by amethystviolist



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Baby Dragon, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Geoffrey's canon characterization may have been flung out the window, Humor, M/M, Magic Revealed, One Shot, cracky?, he's not in there for long anyway, just a little maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 11:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amethystviolist/pseuds/amethystviolist
Summary: “So if you’re not suspicious, then tell me what you’re doing out here,” Arthur ordered.Merlin’s hands twisted nervously around the straps of his bag, and Arthur followed the movement with a growing sense of dread. It was the middle of the night, and the king of Camelot had better things to do at this time- namely, being asleep.Honestly, the things he did for this idiot.





	Merlin Has a Dragon (And Other Revelations)

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I only ever post things at 2am? Maybe because my conscious (and persistently anxious) brain is at last beaten into submission by exhaustion. I should be stopped.  
> Also, I hate titles. I just called this "Bag" in my drafts because of the beginning, seriously. I hate titles so much. Sorry for the lame one I went with at, again, two a.m.
> 
> It's meant to be Merthur, but if you really are in it for platonic friendship, you can probably squint hard and pretend they don't almost kiss near the end.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy whatever the heck this is. Hope it's enjoyable.

“What’s in the bag, Merlin?”

Merlin froze, his hand involuntarily tightening on the leather strap already wrapped securely around his wrist. Slowly, the servant turned around, lifting the bag to his chest protectively as he faced Arthur.

“Arthur,” he said after a long moment, an oddly strained smile on his face. “What are you doing up and wandering around at this time of night?”

“What are you carrying?” Arthur asked again, more forcefully. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted, and Arthur was wound up so tightly that he nearly jumped at the sound.

“You know, the edge of the woods is a strange place for a king to be found at this time,” Merlin said conversationally. “I mean, the scenery _is_ lovely, but most people would think that a king needs his beauty sleep.”

“ _Merlin_ ,” Arthur barked, and his servant twitched slightly at the intensity of the single word.

After a terse moment filled only by the wind rattling through brittle, dead leaves, Merlin’s shoulders slumped as he sighed in defeat.

“Yes, okay, I know this looks suspicious. But you trust me, right?” Merlin asked, his blue eyes almost too wide in the moonlight.

Arthur’s jaw tightened, and he shifted his stance, one hand going to the sword at his waist. Merlin’s eyes followed the motion, and his mouth twisted into a disapproving, disappointed frown.

“You’ve made a habit of sneaking out in the dead of night,” Arthur said finally. “At first, I thought it nothing more than a- a meeting with a lover, or a strange penchant for nighttime walks.” Arthur shook his head slightly, his mouth twisted grimly. “But now… I’ve asked around. No innkeeper or bartender has seen you, no merchant has done business with you, and I resorted to asking criminals- Merlin, _criminals_!- about you getting involved in anything illegal! The only thing anyone said was that someone cloaked kept sneaking off toward the forest, but was never seen coming back out.”

“Right, well, I’m not wearing a cloak, am I?” Merlin pointed out brightly. “Therefore, that suspicious character is definitely not me. Maybe you should go look for that guy, instead of harassing innocent, very non-suspicious servants out for a stroll.”

“So if you’re not suspicious, then tell me what you’re doing out here,” Arthur ordered.

Merlin’s hands twisted nervously around the straps of his bag, and Arthur followed the movement with a growing sense of dread. It was the middle of the night, and the king of Camelot had better things to do at this time- namely, being asleep.

Honestly, the things he did for this idiot.

“Arthur-” Merlin began, his voice full of regret that immediately set Arthur on edge- when the servant was interrupted by a particularly loud screech from that nearby owl, and a second later said owl toppled out of the tree flapping and squawking as something else attacked it.

“Archimedes!” Merlin yelled randomly, and darted towards the scuffle to Arthur’s immense surprise and steadily growing confusion. “Get off him, you lousy lizard!”

There was another loud cry, this time distinctly not that of an owl. Even with all his hunting experience, Arthur couldn’t identify what creature made such a screech. Huffing exasperatedly- of _course_ Merlin would run _toward_ whatever unknown creature was attacking an owl- Arthur too ran after the mess of dark feathers and white skin rolling around half in the air and half on the ground.

“ _Aithusa_!” Merlin yelled, and something about the unusually rough lowness of his voice made all the hair on Arthur’s neck stand straight up, prickling strangely.

There was one more cry, before the tumbling blur separated into two, leaving a dark-feathered, disgruntled-looking owl on the left and… was that a _dragon_?

“Aithusa, we talked about this,” Merlin said sternly, and Arthur was not at all sure what he was supposed to do now. Should he attack the dragon? Pull Merlin away and start running? Regret every life decision he’d made up to this point?

Maybe just regret ever meeting _Merlin_ , who complicated his life _far_ too much.

“Just because Archimedes gets to come near the castle doesn’t mean you get to take your jealousy out on him,” Merlin continued, clearly scolding one of the creatures- the dragon, if its put-out expression was anything to go by- as Arthur stood frozen to the spot, unable to decide what to do.

Wait, did dragons have expressions?

“And you, Archimedes- Don’t provoke her if you can’t handle the result. Are we clear?” Merlin asked firmly, and to further Arthur’s shock, the dragon sort of nodded, and the owl shuffled its feet and hooted softly.

“Merlin?” Arthur finally got out, his voice much, much calmer than he was feeling, “Are… Is that…”

He didn’t even have words for this.

“I can explain,” Merlin said quickly, turning around and putting his bag on the ground. “I- uh, well… I know this looks bad.”

“That’s a tiny dragon,” Arthur stated, his voice rather higher than it had been last time. “You were talking to a tiny white dragon. And an owl.”

On the ground, Merlin’s bag tipped over slightly, and Arthur could make out what looked like a large chunk of meat sticking out the top. The dragon eyed the bag hungrily, and despite white beast being the size of a cat, Arthur was thoroughly intimidated by the look in its eye.

“Um… yes,” Merlin agreed, giving Arthur a worried look. “That’s why I’ve been coming out here. Aithusa can’t go in the castle, of course, but she’s just a baby. I have to care for her out here at night so she won’t be discovered.”

“Right,” Arthur agreed, swallowing heavily. “You’re taking care of a baby dragon. My manservant was talking to a dr- drag-” Were the trees supposed to be blurring like that? Arthur didn’t think trees did that. And since when did the sky start leaning over to look at him with all those starry lights swirling together?

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted worriedly, and Arthur lifted a hand to reassure him that everything was fine, only to discover that his vision had gone completely dark.

Weird.

=========

Arthur sat up with a jolt, his hands clutching the ground beside him, only to find soft sheets crushed in his fists. Slowly, the king relaxed, taking in the comfortingly familiar sight of his chambers as he lay back on the bed.

Now _that_ had been an odd dream. Merlin talking to an owl and a dragon? That was simply ridiculous.

“Baby dragon,” Arthur muttered to himself, and snorted. There weren’t any more dragons, everyone knew that. Arthur himself killed the last one years ago.

“Arthur!” Merlin said, surprisingly close, and Arthur jumped a little. “You’re awake.”

“And you look awful,” Arthur blurted, raking his eyes over Merlin’s disheveled appearance. He frowned disapprovingly. “Did you get no sleep at all last night?”

His servant shifted his weight uncertainly. “Not really,” Merlin admitted. “I was worried about… you know.”

The king paused, his brow furrowing as he tried to think what Merlin would be up all night thinking about. “Er… yes. Of course you were worried,” he decided to say ambiguously.

“Gaius came in earlier, but he said you hadn’t hit your head hard enough to injure it,” Merlin relayed. Arthur waited a full five seconds for Merlin to add something along the lines of, _‘Probably because of your thick skull’_ , but his servant just nervously jiggled his leg and waited for Arthur to respond.

“Uh… good?” Arthur replied belatedly, thrown off by Merlin’s lack of insult (and really, that should say something about how clearly daft Arthur was for keeping him around). He sat up again, about to leave his bed, when he noticed for the first time that he was fully clothed, his shirt stained with mud here and there. Strangely, it was the same tunic he had worn in his dream...

Oh, _hell_.

“Dragon,” Arthur blurted, twisting to stare at Merlin in shock. “You had a _dragon_ in the woods!”

Merlin winced, pointedly looking at something over Arthur’s shoulder. “Yes, well. A very _small_ dragon.”

“You had a _dragon_!” Arthur said again, because really, he wasn’t sure it could be said too much. Maybe if he kept repeating himself, it would seem more real.

“Her name is Aithusa,” Merlin volunteered, his hands fidgeting more nervously than ever.

“Why the hell were you seeing a dragon?” Arthur asked, sliding out of bed to pace frantically, his hands clutching at his hair. “You were with a _dragon_!”

Merlin muttered something that sounded like ‘ _At least it wasn’t kill guards, uh...’_ and Arthur was ready to rip all his hair out if he didn’t get some answers soon.

“Why?” Arthur repeated more simply, holding out one hand imploring Merlin to _please_ explain why there was a _dragon in the forest_.

“We went after a dragon’s egg in some sorcerer’s tomb a year or two ago, and… I might have told you that the egg was crushed, but… it wasn’t. Clearly. Uh, I’m a dragonlord, if I forgot to mention that?” Merlin added, risking a nervous glance up at Arthur’s face.

Arthur sat down on the bed again rather heavily.

“You’re a dragonlord,” he stated, trying to let the words sink in. “And you have a dragon. In the woods.”

“Yeah, that pretty well sums it up,” Merlin agreed with a slight shrug. He nervously plucked at a loose string in his sleeve and added, “And also the owl. Archimedes. He’s sort of- uh. Well, he’s my familiar.”

“Familiar what?” Arthur prompted when Merlin stopped. Surprisingly, Arthur discovered that Merlin could go even paler than his already pasty whiteness.

“I… I have magic, Arthur,” Merlin said in a rush. “I’m a warlock. I- I can do magic, and, well, more than that, I sort of _am_ magic, if that makes any sense, but I swear I don’t use it to do anything that would hurt-”

Arthur’s ears stopped working at that point, unable to process the idea that _Merlin_ had _magic._ So he did what any sensible person would do when faced with the impossible, and promptly set it aside to deal with later (with ‘later’ meaning: _never ever, not in a thousand years_ ).

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Arthur interrupted Merlin’s babbling, “I just want to know what the owl has to do with… this.” Whatever ‘this’ was supposed to be.

“It’s sort of complicated,” Merlin confessed. “But basically, he- the owl- Archimedes… My magic and his life are somehow connected, so he can help me with… magic stuff. And he’s also quite snuggly when no one else is looking.”

“So you have a cuddly magic owl,” Arthur summarized, scratching his head and trying not to look like he was completely at a loss for the next course of action.

Merlin’s pitying expression made Arthur pretty sure that he was failing to look composed.

“His name is Archimedes,” Merlin explained. “He’s quite protective of me. If it wasn’t for his lookout, I’d never have made it in and out of the castle so much without people noticing.”

Arthur tried to imagine Merlin being sneaky or stealthy in any way, but his mind refused to put such impossible thoughts together. That would be as ridiculous as Merlin being a spy, or a noble, or a sorcerer-

Right. Well.

“And the… the magic owl and the magic dragon… they don’t get along?” Arthur asked after an excruciatingly awkward silence during which he failed to convince himself to quit thinking about Merlin and magic together in the same sentence.

Merlin quirked a smile, as if the question surprised him. “I wouldn’t say that… But Aithusa can’t get too close to the castle without raising a thousand alarms, and Archimedes can fly to my room any time he wishes. Aithusa is a tad jealous, and Archimedes flaunts his freedom more than he should-” Merlin suddenly clamped his mouth shut, his eyes widening in fear.

“What?” Arthur asked immediately, looking toward the door for any sign of a threat and finding none.

“You… I need to know you decision, sire,” Merlin said quickly, without any trace of sarcasm in the title. “I will of course submit myself to your justice for my actions, but I cannot allow Aithusa to be harmed.” His blue eyes glinted with steel, and Arthur knew that stubborn look well enough to believe it.

“My decision?” Arthur repeated somewhat helplessly.

“I… have magic,” Merlin repeated, wincing. “I have been a sorcerer since birth, and in your court, which is against Camelot’s laws. If I’m to be-” he inhaled shakily, “-executed, then I would just… like to know before-”

“What!” Arthur leapt from the bed in outrage, but instead of receiving an exasperated or angry or amused look for his burst of temper, Arthur saw Merlin nearly fall out of his chair in his sudden haste to back away.

“I swore my fealty to you!” Merlin cried, his eyes darting toward the door, then warily back to Arthur. “I am loyal to you, Arthur, I am! My magic is _for_ you, it’s not something to fear, it isn’t-”

“Who wants to execute you?” Arthur demanded, ignoring Merlin’s blithering about magic. “Who said that?”

“N-no one,” Merlin got out anxiously. Arthur’s shoulders slumped in relief, and he turned back toward his bed, inhaling deeply.

Normally, this was where Arthur would conversationally mention how great it would be to have Merlin executed in barbaric ways, and Merlin would roll his eyes back and offer sarcastic counter-suggestions to improve his impending doom.

But nothing about this was normal, and Arthur was at his limits.

“If no one is going to kill you, then _get out_ ,” Arthur ordered at last. The _‘before I throw you out’_ was heavily implied.

The door opened and then shut in record time, and when Arthur turned in surprise, Merlin had indeed vanished. The king blinked once in utter confusion before resting his head in his hands and squeezing his eyes closed.

Merlin had magic. Merlin had a dragon. Merlin had an owl. Merlin had _magic_.

Merlin wasn’t the same person anymore.

Stinging pain interrupted Arthur’s maddeningly circular thoughts, and with some surprise, he flexed his slightly bleeding fist, and stared angrily at the offending wooden bedpost. Shaking his hand with a grimace, Arthur turned and began to pace back and forth, thinking hard about things he never wanted to know.

“Premise One: Magic is evil,” Arthur said to himself, as if defending an argument with a tutor. “Premise Two: Merlin is incapable of evildoing. Fact: Merlin has magic. Conclusion: Either Merlin is evil… Or magic is not.”

Black and white, just as his tutors encouraged him to see.

The only remaining question was which color.

=========

There was a knock at the door, and Arthur momentarily tightened his grip on the pommel of his sword.

“Enter,” he called firmly. Merlin’s unruly dark hair appeared first, then dark-rimmed blue eyes full of both fear and determination.

“Sire.” Merlin stepped into the room, his hands clenching and unclenching anxiously. “You summoned me?”

“Yes, I did,” Arthur nodded, giving Merlin his best intimidating glare. “And you came.”

Merlin’s eyes betrayed his confusion, but his expression remained blank. “Er… Yes, sire.”

“Why?” Arthur asked casually.

“Er, why?” Merlin repeated uncertainly, his feet shifting in discomfort.

“Yes, ‘why’. As in, why would a sorcerer pretend to be a servant for many years, being pushed around and ordered about, only to get caught feeding a dragon?” Arthur kept his hand on his sword, but made no move toward Merlin. Not yet.

“I wasn’t pretending to be a servant!” Merlin spluttered immediately. “I am one! And I didn’t mean to get caught with Aithusa. I was being careful, but I thought you couldn’t-” Merlin cut himself off, clearly making an effort to hold his tongue, which was exactly what Arthur _didn’t_ want.

“You must have power. You must have hated my father. Perhaps you hate me. Why stay here for so long? Why come when I call, when you know that I could kill you where you stand?” Arthur asked, still keeping his tone light and casual. His grip tightened on his sword.

“I am yours to command, Ar- sire,” Merlin said quickly. “My power is for you. I’ve been protecting you ever since I first saved you from that dagger in the throne room seven years ago, and I will continue to do so until the day I die.”

“You do know that sorcery is illegal? That the penalty is death?” Arthur continued unconcernedly, drawing his sword and pretending to inspect the blade. “And you still committed this crime?”

“Only for you!” Merlin pleaded. “I use it to save your life. I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do anything to harm you, not by my hand or by my magic, and I never have, Arthur-”

Faster than a striking serpent, Arthur lunged forward with his blade, swinging toward Merlin’s throat.

Time slowed down for Arthur.

Merlin’s eyes widened in sudden panic, meeting Arthur’s with a look of betrayal, and regret- and, worst of all, understanding. Arthur’s sword made a gleaming arc toward Merlin’s exposed neck, and before it was even close to contact, Merlin swallowed and shut his eyes, turning his head slightly to the side and clenching his fists as he braced himself for a fatal blow.

Arthur drew back, sheathing his weapon with the ease of practice. Merlin’s breathing was harsh, his chest heaving as though any breath could be his last.

“Merlin,” Arthur said quietly. “You can open your eyes. I’m not going to kill you.”

Almost comically, Merlin peeked cautiously with one eye before warily opening both, his breathing still ragged.

“I’m not dead,” he said with obvious relief and a hint of surprise.

“Well observed,” Arthur replied with rather grim amusement.

“I’m not… You’re not going to chop off my head?” Merlin asked incredulously, finally noticing that Arthur’s sword was firmly sheathed and his hand far from the hilt.

“Not today,” Arthur said airily. “I don’t fancy fighting off a dragon, even a tiny one.” The king ignored Merlin’s gobsmacked expression and strode to the door purposefully, pulling it open and addressing the guard outside.

“Lenir, ask someone to bring up a plate of food. And also to fetch Geoffrey, as soon he’s available.”

“Yes, sire.”

Arthur closed the door and turned back to Merlin, who still seemed lost, his brow wrinkled in total confusion.

“You swung a sword at me,” Merlin stated blankly.

“Yes,” Arthur confirmed simply.

“You were going to kill me!” There was a hint of the righteous outrage Merlin was so fond of.

“No,” Arthur refuted, and unbelted his sword completely, heading to his desk and tossing it on top. Merlin took a wary step toward Arthur, his brow still wrinkled in confusion.

“Then why the hell did you swing a sword at my head?” Merlin exclaimed, much closer to sounding like himself again.

“Because an evil sorcerer would have ripped my intestines out through my eye sockets before I could get anywhere near them with a sword,” Arthur stated casually. “Whereas Merlin, my completely idiotic, self-sacrificing, stupidly brave friend, would never attempt to harm me. Even with his own life at risk,” Arthur explained shortly. “Which, by the way, will need to be trained out of you. Reaction time is of the utmost importance, Merlin, even if you’re fighting with magic instead of swords.”

“It was a test?” Merlin said in surprise, blue eyes comically wide.

“And you passed,” Arthur confirmed easily, coming over and gripping Merlin’s bony shoulder bracingly. “You’re a good man, Merlin, and I trust you. Even if you say you have magic, and a baby dragon, and a weird owl-” stars above, this was really his life now, “-then I still somehow have faith that you will act with Camelot’s best interests at heart.”

To Arthur’s surprise, Merlin’s eyes were watering suspiciously, and so he withdrew his hand as quickly as if burned. Tears of any kind were not within Arthur’s realm of expertise.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Merlin breathed, his voice soft and hoarse with emotion. “I don’t- I don’t know what to say. Just- thank you, Arthur.”

“I do have questions,” Arthur added when he was sure Merlin wasn’t going to melt into a puddle of tears or anything drastic like that.

“I will answer all of them, I swear,” Merlin replied without hesitation. “I never wanted to lie to you, and I won’t do it again.”

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, Arthur shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Well, as long as that’s clear. Lie to me again and I’ll-”

“Throw me down the well? Feed me to the dogs?” Merlin supplied with a choked-sounding laugh. Arthur looked determinedly at the wall.

“I would be gravely hurt without your trust,” Arthur said instead, stoically avoiding eye contact of any sort. After a moment of Merlin being unusually silent, Arthur risked a quick glance, and found Merlin was letting a few tears escape even when grinning broadly.

“Got that?” Arthur said roughly, but he didn’t push past Merlin like he usually would.

“I think so,” Merlin answered after a second, still beaming.

“Good,” the king replied, and once more cleared his throat, stepping back toward the window only to find two pairs of eyes staring back at him.

Arthur let out an extremely brave yelp at the dragon sitting on his windowsill, and stumbled back a few steps. To his right, Merlin huffed in amusement and stepped forward, shaking his head slightly.

“Aithusa, I told you that you couldn’t come to the castle yet,” Merlin said exasperatedly. The white dragon quirked its head at the mild reprimand, but continued watching Arthur.

“Gold!” Aithusa screeched suddenly, her voice high and inexperienced like a child’s. Understandably, Arthur inched back farther. A _talking_ dragon?

Really, he should have been more surprised than he was. The things he went through for Merlin, honestly…

“Gold?” Merlin repeated, sounding both delighted and confused. “Aithusa, what’s gold?”

“Gold!” the dragon chirped. “Gold coin! Coin gold!”

The owl hooted in a decidedly unimpressed way.

“Merlin?” Arthur said quietly, feeling even more out of place than he had at Morgana’s infamous seventh birthday party.

The warlock startled slightly, as if he had forgotten Arthur was there _in his own room_ , then turned and flashed Arthur a wide grin. “Aithusa just said her first words. We’ve been working on speaking for a while now, but she hadn’t seemed very interested.”

“Oh,” Arthur said. What else could he say when finding out that his manservant was trying to train a dragon to speak?

“Yes, she’s always been perfectly expressive, but never with actual words. Until now!” Merlin was beaming as he tenderly stroked the dragon’s scaly head. The dragon made a high keening sound and arched into the touch almost like a cat, until the owl hooted disgruntledly and Merlin turned to glare at it.

“Archimedes, play nice,” Merlin said sternly.

“How- Does the owl talk?” Arthur asked nervously.

The owl screeched loudly, twisting its head to glare at Arthur with large golden eyes, and Arthur got the odd feeling that he’d been insulted in owl-speak.

Merlin flicked at the owl’s feathers lightly, to which the owl responded by nearly biting off Merlin’s fingers. “Archimedes can sort of talk to me, because we have a bond. But he isn’t able to speak our words like Aithusa is.”

“Do you have some kind of a penchant for ‘A’ names?” Arthur asked suddenly, trying vainly to tease Merlin in some sense of normalcy. He thought the attempt was rather weak, which was why he was so surprised when Merlin’s ears flushed dull red.

“I didn’t- I like- It’s a coincidence,” Merlin said hastily.

Archimedes hooted lowly, and tilted his feathered head in a way that somehow conveyed smugness.

“I do not!” Merlin screeched, his ears burning even more, and Arthur distinctly felt like he was missing half of a conversation.

Arthur began to question this further, when there was a knock on the door. Merlin shot a panicked look toward Arthur, which he ignored.

“Enter,” Arthur called, disregarding Merlin’s flailing attempts to block the dragon from view.

Geoffrey strode through the doorway, cool and collected as ever. Sometimes Arthur wondered if Geoffrey was half rock. He didn’t seem to react to anything: according to local gossip, when Geoffrey was told that the Great Dragon was loose and torching the city, he had nodded politely and asked if that meant he’d be making his own dinner that evening.

“You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?” Geoffrey asked in his dry voice, eyes briefly going behind Arthur to whatever Merlin was doing.

Arthur resolutely faced his historian, despite the suspicious shuffling behind him. “Yes, Geoffrey, thank you for coming so promptly. I was hoping you found the information regarding the position of Court Sorcerer.”

Merlin made a very amusing choked squeak in the background, and Arthur fought a smirk.

Geoffrey looked unfazed as ever. “Certainly, my lord.” He withdrew a scroll from his robes and handed it to Arthur without preamble. Arthur began skimming the document, while Geoffrey began a long, droning summary that was likely longer than the actual text.

“The position of Court Sorcerer was once highly sought after, especially in Camelot, with her rich resources and abundance of Druidic peoples. In the times of the Ancient Kings, no monarch would be without a sorcerer by their side, else they be subject to all manner of magical attack from beast and foe. I am personally astounded that the late King Uther survived as long as he did without a sorcerer at court, for he was saved many times in his youth by his father’s court sorcerer Nimueh-” Merlin made another hilarious noise, “-and then you, of course, somehow managed to live all the way to kingship without any sort of magical protection. The use of magic within a court is often vital to the court’s proceedings much of the time, given the nobility’s proclivity to poisoning, usurping, and backstabbing one another-”

“Yes, thank you, Geoffrey,” Arthur interrupted, rolling up the document and withholding a triumphant grin. As abruptly as possible, Arthur announced, “I’m going to reinstate the position immediately.”

Disappointingly, Geoffrey looked as unruffled as ever, though a tad suspicious. “Yes, Your Majesty. I can have the necessary legal documents drawn up within the hour. I still have records of the more sensible laws governing the use of magic from your grandfather’s reign.”

“Excellent,” Arthur nodded, and returned the parchment.

“May I inquire as to the sorcerer receiving the position?” Geoffrey asked bluntly, stowing the scroll somewhere in the depths of his robes.

He could have half the library in there and no one would be the wiser, Arthur thought distractedly. No wonder the wily librarian had been able to keep so many banned books throughout Uther’s increasingly unstable reign.

“Why yes,” Arthur replied smugly, “That would be Merlin, previously my manservant,” Arthur said, and turned to clap said ex-servant on the shoulder. He noticed that Merlin’s chest protruded very strangely, but Arthur decided to deal with that mischief later, and appreciate Merlin’s bug-eyed look of pure shock now.

Geoffrey looked highly skeptical, raising one eyebrow in a similar expression to Gaius. Maybe it was an elderly man thing. “And is he a sorcerer, sire?”

Merlin made an unconvincing whimper while he frantically shook his head, and Arthur squeezed his bony shoulder bracingly. “Technically, I believe he’s a warlock.”

Geoffrey’s eyebrow climbed higher, when Merlin’s odd-looking chest protrusion suddenly moved, and then a scaly white head poked out from under his customary neckerchief.

“Gold!” Aithusa crowed happily, and Arthur was treated, for the first time, to Geoffrey’s stoic face morphing into stunned surprise.

“ _Mer_ lin, did you stuff a dragon down your shirt?” Arthur asked incredulously.

His friend still looked vaguely ill, but managed a scowl. “You had a visitor! I had to hide her somewhere!”

“And you though the bulging front of your tunic wouldn’t be odd at all?”

“It’s less odd than a dragon perched on your windowsill!” Merlin snapped back, color thankfully returning to his cheeks.

“Sire-” Geoffrey said, and then stopped. He seemed to be speechless, a definite first for the rambling historian. Arthur barely resisted the urge to cackle. All his and Morgana’s pranks as teenagers, and _this_ was what broke Geoffrey’s stoicism.

“Oh, he’s also a dragonlord,” Arthur said helpfully, and then glanced at Merlin with some trepidation. “There aren’t any other significant powers you’ve neglected to mention, are there?”

Merlin winced slightly, and he scratched awkwardly at his head. “Um… possibly? There’s a lot to cover.”

Of course there was more. Like a bloody dragon and a magic owl and Merlin being a warlock wasn’t already enough.

“We’ll discuss it later, then,” Arthur said with finality and turned a rather smug smile on Geoffrey, who had yet to close his gaping mouth. “Thank you for your assistance. I’ll expect those papers by evening, if that’s convenient.”

The librarian managed a nod, and then a belated bow. “Er- yes, sire. Your Majesty. By evening.” And then he practically fled from the room.

Arthur was a trained diplomat and a king bearing great responsibility. He was also making a sound that Morgana would call giggling, and thumping Merlin on the back in mirth.

“Did you see his _face_?” Arthur guffawed. Merlin’s immediate response was to hit him in the shoulder.

“You utter prat! You can’t make me Court Sorcerer! You didn’t even ask!” Merlin protested immediately. Arthur’s chuckling slowly came back under his control, and he crossed his arms in a display of more serious strength.

“I can, and I will,” Arthur replied with a firmness bordering on stubborn. “You’re a trusted advisor already. I was planning to make that official on its own within a few weeks, but this role should be much more fitting. You deserve the credit for-”

“Gold!” Aithusa interrupted. Archimedes cooed in response, clicking his beak a few times.

At Arthur’s inquisitive look toward the owl, Merlin sighed, then translated, “He’s speculating on the meaning of Aithusa’s first word. A dragon’s first words are always very important.”

“Gold coin! Coin gold!” Aithusa proclaimed once again, flapping her small wings.

“Gold coins? Does she… hoard treasure?” Arthur hazarded, and Merlin managed about half a second of silence before bursting into laughter.

Arthur scowled on reflex. He wasn’t even surprised to find Archimedes looking at him with an amused glint in his unblinking eyes, which really said something about how fast Arthur adjusted to weird things, and you know, maybe he should be more worried that this was all an outrageous fever dream.

“Ha! ‘Hoarding treasure’,” Merlin snickered. “No, dragons don’t hoard gold. If anything, they hoard secrets and delight in speaking in the most infuriatingly vague words possible.”

Archimedes hooted, and Merlin laughed anew, muttering about ‘hoarding gold’ again.

“It’s what the old stories say!” Arthur defended himself. “There are multiple accounts of knights finding great treasures laid up in dragon caves!”

Merlin patted him consolingly on the arm. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that your bedtime stories got a few things wrong.”

“ _Bedtime_ -! they were history books!” Arthur huffed.

Merlin’s lips quirked in a way that meant Arthur was about to be insulted. It was an infuriating expression. “Maybe so... but that love poetry wasn’t.”

Damn it, Arthur would never live that down.

“It was for academic purposes only!” Arthur’s face was flushed, he could feel it. And Merlin and Archimedes were giving him eerily similar smirks.

He’d already stopped questioning if owls could have expressions. They could, and this one clearly enjoyed Merlin’s treasonous sport of laughing at kings.

Annoyingly, Arthur found it rather endearing.

In Merlin, anyway, not the owl.

“Academic purposes had nothing to do with it,” Merlin insisted, and Arthur pointedly cleared his throat.

“So what else do you need to tell me about your magic?” he asked in a transparent attempt to change the subject, and then Merlin’s laughter almost immediately drained away. The king felt a little badly for bringing up Merlin’s secrets again, but then remembered the fact that he’d been lied to for seven years, and also that Merlin had been aiming a really annoying smirk  at him ten seconds ago, and then the twinge of guilt magically (ha) vanished.

Aithusa curled around Merlin’s shoulders as the dragonlord fidgeted, and with a small sigh Arthur magnanimously gestured to the chairs by the fireplace. Merlin gave him a grateful nod, and together, they sat down by the cold hearth.

For a long moment, they didn’t even speak. So often, they didn’t need to. But now Arthur felt like he was truly seeing Merlin for the first time, and their relationship had… shifted, somehow, without him meaning for it to.

Merlin had magic… And Arthur hadn’t even seen that yet.

“Show me,” Arthur said quietly, and it was the farthest tone from an order he’d ever managed. Someone - who didn’t value their continued existence - might have called it pleading.

Merlin gave him a searching look. With a dragon curled around his shoulders and a new openness in his eyes, Merlin himself seemed more at peace than Arthur had ever seen him. And peace looked good on him, despite the shadows under his eyes and the perpetually messy dark hair. Hmm, come to think of it, Arthur rather liked the tousled hair- where was he going with this train of thought?

Back to sorcery. Magic, yes, very important.

Arthur’s breathing quickened as Merlin nodded once in agreement. He was going to see magic, benign magic, for the first time. Arthur would be lying if he said wasn’t excited… and nervous. His future felt oddly like it hinged on this moment, though Arthur immediately questioned where _that_ melodramatic thought had come from. He blamed Merlin, of course.

The dragon undulated around Merlin’s neck and crooned, “Gold,” at them once more.

Slowly, Merlin lifted one hand and let his fingers curl open. Without a single word, bright flames danced to life in Merlin’s palm. His blue eyes were suddenly a shining gold, and the shadows cast by the magical light made Merlin appear ethereal, powerful, and disturbingly foreign. A stranger sat in the chair opposite him. Who was this mighty warlock? What had he seen to make his eyes so old, to toil in silence behind a guise of laughter and smiles? Who was Arthur to insult and berate and _befriend_ this powerful creature of the Old Religion?

And then Merlin sneezed, and the flames went out, and his sheepishly smiling friend was back with reassuring blue eyes.

Arthur blinked in surprise, as if being released from a spell, realizing Merlin’s sudden proximity- oh, he had been leaning forward. The king hurriedly leaned back in his chair, clearing his throat.

He didn’t know what to say.

“Sorry,” Merlin murmured, absently stroking Aithusa’s neck. “Archimedes is beginning to molt. Always a sneezy time.”

There was an offended squawk from the window, to which Merlin rolled his eyes.

Something in Arthur’s chest twisted strangely. Everything was different now. But maybe different would be good. Maybe better than good.

“I want to know everything,” Arthur said a little hoarsely, and Merlin’s eyes were blue and warm when he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, I'm giving up!!!  
> I hope the end makes sense. I'm not sure it does, but I'm also not sure I care?  
> Sleep deprivation is wild.
> 
> For anyone wondering, Aithusa's "gold" is a reference to the Golden Age of Camelot, and if you like, you can read into it more with Merlin's magic gold eyes and Arthur's fabulous gold hair. The "coin" is obvious referring to the infamous "two sides of the same coin" from the show.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love a comment, but thanks for just making it this far!  
> I'm finally going to sleep.
> 
> (Edit: If you enjoyed this piece, you might enjoy [Impacts of Literal and Metaphorical Natures](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11135133) also written by me! Just a suggestion, of course.)


End file.
